They were an Elegy to Mary, and were very beautiful, I read them aloud, and when I had finished she thanked me and said she had no doubt that if I pleased I could put them into Welsh--she then sighed and wiped her eyes.
On our enquiring whether we could see the interior of the abbey she said we could, and that if we rang a bell at the gate a woman would come to us, who was in the habit of showing the place.

We then got up and bade her farewell--but she begged that we would stay and taste the dwr santaidd of the holy well.
"What holy well is that ?" said I.
"A well," said she, "by the road's side, which in the time of the popes was said to perform wonderful cures." "Let us taste it by all means," said I; whereupon she went out, and presently returned with a tray on which were a jug and tumbler, the jug filled with the water of the holy well; we drank some of the dwr santaidd, which tasted like any other water, and then after shaking her by the hand, we went to the gate, and rang at the bell.
Presently a woman made her appearance at the gate--she was genteelly drest, about the middle age, rather tall, and bearing in her countenance the traces of beauty.

When we told her the object of our coming she admitted us, and after locking the gate conducted us into the church.

It was roofless, and had nothing remarkable about it, save the western window, which we had seen from without.

Our attendant pointed out to us some tombs, and told us the names of certain great people whose dust they contained.